Page 20 of Unearthed Dreams (Sable Point #3)

Chapter Seventeen

CHARLIE

The familiar scent of books and peonies wrapped around me as I slipped inside Books and Crannies, leaving the sign to remain on CLOSED. The store felt different in the shadows—more intimate, like it was keeping my secrets.

I sank into the pink velvet loveseat beneath the window, my manuscript clutched to my chest. My heart was still racing from... everything. The way Kai had opened up to me. The raw vulnerability in his eyes when he’d admitted wanting a future. How close we’d come to...

My face heated at the memory of his thumb brushing my lip.

But it wasn’t just the physical stuff that had my pulse thundering. It was the way he’d seen through my writing to the heart of what I was trying to say. The way he’d filled the margins with thoughtful notes and genuine questions about the world I’d built.

I spread the pages across the antique coffee table, tracing his messy handwriting.

His words were sometimes sharp and angular, like he’d pressed the pen hard into the paper during intense scenes.

Other times, the letters flowed softly, almost tender, especially in the margins of the quieter moments between my characters.

“Show, don’t tell here,” he’d written next to a scene where my wyrm rider first touches her mount’s scales. “Make us feel the texture, the heat. You’re good at sensory details—use them.”

He’d noticed that I liked weaving in sensory elements?

After a few hours of studying his notes, my eyes began to blur. I’d need to let these suggestions marinate before diving into another round of edits. But maybe I could do some research, figure out my next steps...

I pulled out my laptop and settled deeper into the loveseat. The quiet of the empty store wrapped around me like a blanket as I typed “how to publish a novel” into the search bar.

My fingers hesitated over the keys. What was I really doing here? Was I actually brave enough to pursue this dream? To put my work out into the world?

Kai’s voice echoed in my head. Your imagination, the way your mind works... it’s beautiful.

The way he’d said it—like it was simple fact, not empty praise—made something settle in my chest. A certainty I hadn’t felt before.

I squared my shoulders and began typing with renewed purpose. If Kai could trust me with his past, I could trust myself with my future.

And maybe, just maybe, we could figure out our happy endings together.

I clicked through several writing blogs, making notes in my phone. The publishing process seemed both simpler and more complicated than I’d imagined.

First step: finish the manuscript. Well, I had that part done. Sort of. With Kai’s notes, I knew I had another round of revisions ahead of me.

Step two: write a query letter. I opened a new tab, diving into examples. My stomach churned as I read through successful queries. How was I supposed to condense my entire 439-page novel into three paragraphs that would make someone want to read more?

Dear Agent,

I deleted the words as soon as I typed them. Not ready for that yet.

Instead, I took to Reddit, and dove into r/PubTips and r/writingtips. The supportive posts gave me hope, but the statistics... God. Less than one percent of queried manuscripts landed an agent… and only a fraction of those ever made it to a publisher.

A post from a debut fantasy author made me pause.

“The only manuscripts that definitely won’t get published are the ones that never get submitted.”

The comment section was filled with other writers sharing their success stories, how many queries it took before finding their agent, how many revisions before their book sold.

Some had queried multiple books before finding success.

Others had hit with their first try. All of them had one thing in common—they’d kept going.

I thought about Kai’s notes again. About how he’d seen something worthwhile in my story. How he’d read it twice .

Opening another tab, I started researching comparable titles.

That seemed important—understanding where my book would sit on shelves.

Fourth Wing was obviously killing it right now, but mine was different.

More political intrigue, less steam. Though after last night with Kai, maybe I could write those scenes better now. ..

I created a new folder on my laptop: PUBLISHING JOURNEY.

I made documents for Query Letter—blank for now but ready and waiting, Comp Titles, Agent Research, and Synopsis—that would be fun, condensing 439 pages into one-to-two.

My heart raced as I worked. This was really happening.

I was really doing this.

Time to make this dream real.

The past week had fallen into a delicious pattern.

Stolen moments at the bar before opening, lazy afternoons in his apartment while I worked on revisions, and late nights exploring each other with increasingly bold touches.

I’d gotten better at sneaking around—waiting until Mom’s TV shows ended and Dad’s snoring started before slipping out, then returning before dawn.

Kai climbed into bed with me, my head resting on his stomach while he sat propped against the headboard.

My knees were bent, feet planted on the mattress, laptop balanced precariously as I worked.

The quiet was broken only by the occasional turning of pages as Kai read A Court of Mist and Fury —he’d devoured the first book in two days .

“So,” Kai said casually, one hand absently playing with my hair. “I reached out to someone about your book.”

“Hmm?” I was deep in a scene revision, barely registering his words.

“My foster brother, Matthew. He does freelance fiction editing now.”

My fingers froze on the keyboard. “What?”

“He said he’d do a sample edit for you. First chapter, see if you?—”

The laptop nearly went flying as I launched myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck. “Are you serious? Oh my god, Kai!”

“Careful, pretty girl.” He laughed, catching my laptop before it could slide off the bed. His other arm wrapped around my waist, steadying me. “Don’t break your computer before Matthew can see your work.”

“I can’t believe you did this.” I pulled back to look at him, my heart racing. “Wait—did you tell him about... us?”

“No.” His fingers traced lazy patterns on my lower back. “Just said I had a friend who’d written something incredible. He doesn’t need to know more than that.”

“A friend?” I raised an eyebrow, unable to keep the grin off my face.

“Mmm.” His hand slid higher up my back. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

“Well, most of my friends don’t do this ...” I leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thank god for that,” he murmured against my mouth. Then he pulled back slightly, his expression turning serious. “ You don’t have to do it if you’re not ready. The sample edit. I just thought?—”

“No!” I grabbed his face. “I want to. I’m ready. I just... can’t believe you did this for me.”

His eyes softened. “I’d do a lot more than that for you, Charlie.”

His words made my chest tight. I shifted in his lap, suddenly very aware of everywhere we were touching. “Yeah? Like what else would you do for me?”

His hands tightened on my hips. “Dangerous question, pretty girl.”

“I like dangerous.” The breathiness in my voice surprised me as his thumbs slipped under the hem of my t-shirt—well, his t-shirt that I’d stolen to sleep in.

“Do you?” One hand traveled up my spine, leaving fire in its wake. “Like how you’ve been sneaking into my bed every night this week?”

“Mmm.” I arched into his touch. “Like how you’ve been teaching me things.”

His breath caught. “Fuck, Charlie. The way you say that...”

“What? That I like learning from you?” I rocked slightly in his lap, relishing in his sharp inhale. “That I practice what you teach me when I’m alone in my?—”

His mouth crashed into mine, cutting off my words.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, nothing like the careful exploration of the past week.

His hands tangled in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss as I pressed closer and closer and he grew harder and harder between my legs. The friction was exquisite.

“Wait,” Kai gasped against my mouth, his hands stilling on my hips. “Charlie... ”

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, chasing his lips. “Please.”

His forehead pressed against mine. “We need to slow down.”

“Why?” I couldn’t keep the frustration from my voice. A week of careful touches, of him teaching me pleasure but never taking it further had me coiled tight. “Don’t you want?—”

“God, yes.” His grip tightened, holding me still when I tried to rock against him. “But not like this. Not rushed on a Sunday morning when anyone could come looking for you.”

“No one’s looking for me.” But even as I said it, my phone buzzed from somewhere in the tangled sheets.

Kai laughed, low and rough. “You were saying?”

I groaned, dropping my head to his shoulder. “I hate when you’re right.”

“No, you don’t.” He pressed a soft kiss to my temple. “Besides, some things are worth waiting for.”

The promise in his voice made me shiver. “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve actually had sex before.”

“Charlie...” The warning in his tone just made me want him more.

“Fine.” I pulled back with an exaggerated sigh. “But one of these days, your self-control is going to snap.”

In one fluid motion, Kai flipped us, pinning me beneath his muscular frame.

The delicious weight of him pressed me into the mattress, his heated skin searing against mine through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

My breath hitched as his hips ground against my core, the hard length of him hitting just right and making my back arch off the bed.

“Trust me,” he whispered against my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. His teeth grazed my pulse point as he set a maddening rhythm, the steady pressure making me writhe beneath him.

“Kai,” I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders as sparks of pleasure shot through me. “Oh god...”

His low groan vibrated against my throat as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin. One hand slid down my side to grip my hip, holding me steady as he rocked harder against me. The friction was exquisite, building and building until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Careful what you wish for.” His eyes darkened. “Now, come for me, pretty girl.”

The pressure exploded into white-hot pleasure, making me cry out his name as my body convulsed.

Wave after wave crashed over me as I trembled beneath him, my thighs quivering around his hips.

When I finally caught my breath, my skin still tingling with aftershocks, Kai was pressing tender kisses everywhere—my temple, my flushed cheeks, the corner of my mouth.

His touch was reverent, a sharp contrast to the heated passion of moments before.

“Still frustrated?” he murmured, a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Mmm.” I curled into his chest, feeling boneless. “Content. For now.”

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. “Insatiable.”

“Only for you. But now it’s my turn,” I whispered, pushing against his broad chest until he fell back against the pillows.

I climbed into his lap, the thin cotton of my borrowed shirt sliding up my thighs.

His calloused hands found my hips, fingers digging into my soft flesh as I rolled my pelvis against his throbbing length.

The delicious friction against my overly sensitive clit made me gasp, sparks of pleasure shooting through my core with each deliberate grind.

“Charlie,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. His grip tightened, guiding my movements as I rocked faster, harder. The muscles in his arms flexed and strained as he fought to control himself, his abs clenching beneath my splayed fingers.

I leaned down to nip at his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. His pulse raced beneath my tongue as I sucked a mark onto his throat.

“Fuck,” he gasped as I shifted my angle, pressing down harder. His hips bucked up to meet mine, the force of his thrust making me whimper. His whole body was taut with restraint as I worked him closer and closer to the edge.

His fingers were bruising my hips as his breathing grew ragged and harsh. “Charlie, I’m gonna—” The rest of his words dissolved into a guttural moan as his body went rigid, his grip almost painful as he shuddered through his release.

I just made a thirty-two-year-old man come in his pants.

“God, Charlie,” he breathed against my neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

I grinned, feeling powerful. Desired.

Anything but boring.